


I'll meet you in the nosebleeds.

by YourFadedGlory (HisNameWasAce)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2014 Winter Olympics, 5+1 Things, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisNameWasAce/pseuds/YourFadedGlory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five people who noticed Sidney eats alone during the Olympics, plus the one person who does something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll meet you in the nosebleeds.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to work through a case of writers block and this just popped into my head.

_"So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them."_ -Sylvia Plath

 

**1\. Patrick Sharp**

From the moment they step off the bus, it is absolute pandemonium. Room assignments were being shouted above the chatter, and Sharpy didn’t even try to hide his shit eating grin when they announced that he’d been roomed with Jonny.

Inspite of the noise, he could still hear his captain’s long suffering groan of protest carry across the room, and see a fist --more than likely Kaner’s-- pump upward in satisfaction. 

As it was a generally unanimous agreement that during the Olympics, messing with Jonathan Toews was an international affair. 

Snatching up the keys to their room, Sharpy made a beeline for the living quarters. As he cut through the crowd he caught sight of an all too familiar brunette, his hands tucked firmly into his pockets, and eyes studiously fixed on the ground.

He’d never really thought it was possible to look so completely alone in a crowded room, but Crosby had always been a prime candidate for pushing the boundaries. 

Chalking up the lone ranger status to jet lag, possible claustrophobia, or a headache, Sharpy left him be. He had pranks to plan, and incriminating video evidence to capture. It wasn’t exactly a league secret that Sid leaned heavily toward the goalie side of the eccentricity spectrum. It was probably Sid just being Sid.

He didn’t give it much thought after that, not until he was running down the hall and away from a very flustered, and flour covered Jonny. 

Rounding a corner, Sharpy flung open the door to the stairwell, nearly tripping over Crosby as he went. 

As the sheepish looking Canadian captain scrambled upright and back into the halls, Sharpy couldn’t help but frown.

Eating peanut butter sandwiches alone in a stairwell was a new kind of weird, even for Sid.

 

**2\. Zdeno Chara**

Sitting in the dining hall during the dinner rush is kind of like watching one of those shows on Animal Planet. 

Athletes outside of their natural habitat were always an interesting sight, especially with the melding of so many different languages and cultures factoring in. A good portion of people looked like they were playing charades over their dinner, trying to convey some point or another to a new friend, while others merely babbled away in tongues that Zdeno couldn’t ever hope to learn. 

The only person he could pick out that looked genuinely uncomfortable was Sidney Crosby. He was surrounded by a painful accumulation of red, and white, and maple leafs. It seemed every Canadian athlete, from every discipline, had congealed into one massive blob of patriotic bonding. 

Yet Crosby stood apart, sandwiched between two figure skaters that Zdeno only vaguely recognized. The two seemed to be chattering happily enough, hand gestures large and enthusiastic.All the while Sidney smiled tersely and kept his eyes on his plate, poking at his bits of his steak, and huffing out stiff puffs of laughter while the rest of the table roared their amusement with enough force to deafen surrounding conversations.

Zdeno was slightly disappointed. He didn’t see even a hint of the man that had, had the audacity to get in his face and shove at his shoulders.

It was an honest to god shame. 

 

**3\. Jeff Carter**

It’s no secret among the Kings that Jeff takes a decade and a half to get changed out of his gear. The equipment crew were normally the only guys left by the time he’d managed to shower and change, which is why his heart stuttered in surprise when he rounded a corner and smacked right into Captain Canada himself. 

Stumbling back a step or two, Jeff rubbed his throbbing nose tenderly. 

“Christ Sid, way to shave a couple years off my life.” He grumbled, glancing up at the brunette, only to get a prime view of the top of his head.  
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here.” Sid muttered, seemingly fascinated by the bright yellow of his Crocs. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” Jeff asked, wondering why Sidney wasn’t off taking advantage of the free condoms, or at the very, least soaking up the olympic experience.

“Just needed to get my skates adjusted.” Sidney gritted out, pressing himself against the wall and sliding by Jeff and toward the equipment room.

The blonde had to do a double take to realize that Sidney wasn’t even holding his skates, but a brown paper bag that looked suspiciously like a packed school lunch.

Sharpy wasn’t kidding when he said the kid was a few shots short of a hat trick. 

 

**4\. Dan Bylsma**

The complaints start coming in around the second day, an awkward hockey player skulking around the halls eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. While Dan was technically there for team U.S.A, he made a habit of keeping tabs on his players.

And it wasn’t exactly hard to guess who the culprit was, after all the Penguin’s captain had a pretty specific and well publicized M.O. Not that Dan needed anyone or anything to tell him about Sid’s habits, the entire Pens organization was very well acquainted with them. 

Sid looked fine on the ice though, perfectly happy and about as socially competent as a man raised by a stick and a puck could be. The brunette must have noticed his lingering gaze because when practice ended, Sid hovered around until the Canadian had filed off the ice and Dan made his way to the bench, his head cocked slightly to the side in curiosity.

“Everything OK coach?”

Dan wanted to say yes, but with Sid he had to be certain before he could.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the mysterious hockey play that’s been taking up residence in the halls and stairways during mealtimes?” He asked gently, mindful of the way Sid’s shoulders tensed and the grip on his stick tightened. 

“Sorry coach.” It wasn’t an admission of guilt or a lie, but something in the middle.

Dan watched him skate off the ice, pinching the bridge of his nose to rub away the ache settling between his eyes. 

At lunch that day, for the first time in two days he finished a meal without his phone buzzing to alert him of a Crosby sighting. Dan would have been relieved, had he not seen the brunette sitting alone under a tree with that goddamn sandwich while on his way to the dining hall.

 

**5\. Jonathan Toews**

“Why doesn’t he eat with us?” 

Patrick looked up from grilled chicken salad, greeted by a lovely look of emotional constipation of Jonny’s face. Though he didn’t notice any unusual absences, he glanced up and down the table to try and decipher who exactly it was that Jonny was referring to. 

“Gonna need a bit more clarification if you want an answer Tazer.” He kicked the Canadian lightly in the shin to get his attention, smiling cheekily in response to the death glare that Jonny sent his way. 

“Sidney, I mean he’s literally been to one meal with us, and he spent the whole time staring at his plate.” Jonny’s brow furrowed in confusion, obviously unconvinced by generic mantra of, ‘It’s just Sid being Sid.’ 

“Like you’re an example of prime human interaction.” Patrick shot back with a slight roll of his eyes. If the unimpressed scoff that followed was anything to go by, that definitely hadn’t been the answer Jonny had been looking for.

“I’m serious Pat, what do you think he does?”

Sighing at the fact that somehow he had become the insightful one between their duo, Patrick set his fork down and swallowed the mouth full of lettuce he’d been so sorely tempted to cover in ranch.

“I know exactly what he does Jonny. He finds somewhere quiet, out of the way, and then he digs out a PB&J with a side of carrot sticks or something.”

Confusion was still etched in Jonny’s face and Patrick had to resist the serious temptation to facepalm. 

“Haven’t you ever read Sid’s wikipedia article? The dude was bullied so badly when he was younger that he wouldn’t wear his jersey between games at tournaments because he was afraid of getting pelted by food and insults. He’s probably just uncomfortable here because we aren’t his usual team, he doesn’t know us outside of the chirps we spit at him during the regular season, so he doesn’t want to risk hearing them when you’re actually wearing the same sweater.” 

Patrick thought it was ridiculously shitty, how cruel people could be, and to a kid no less. Even though he didn’t think it was possible, Jonny looked even more emotionally constipated after his little explanation, staring down at his steak guiltily. 

“He can’t honestly think we’d treat him like that, can he?”

Patrick shrugged slightly in response. “He’s Sid.”

 

**+1. Patrick Kane**

After his talk with Dan, Sidney couldn’t exactly hang around his usual haunts. But it wasn’t like the Olympic Park was short on places to hide, there was an abundance of little nooks and crannies that he could tuck himself away in without creeping out the equipment staff or other athletes. 

His favorite by far were the nosebleed seats in the top tier of spectator stands at the ice rink, no one ever really sat up there and he still had a pretty decent view of whatever practice or performance was going on below. It was safe.

Or at least he thought it was until Patrick Kane appeared out of nowhere and plopped down in the seat next to him, propping his feet up on the backs of the seats in front of them.

“Hey Sid,” he grinned happily in greeting, and Sidney felt an uncomfortable flush of heat rise in his cheeks. 

“Awesome place to eat lunch man.” The blonde’s tone was light, if not a little teasing and Sidney felt his fists tighten reflexively around the brown paper bag that held his usual sandwich, an apple, and some carrot sticks, unsure if Patrick was being sincere or poking fun at him. 

“It’s not bad.” He mumbled, and almost like he could read how uncomfortable Sidney was with his sudden appearance, Patrick knocked their knees together playfully, holding up a brown paper bag of his own. 

Even though his sandwich was ham and cheese, the gesture wasn’t lost on Sidney. He let himself relax back into his seat, and bask in Patrick’s running commentary of the figure skating going on below. 

“Here, I have an extra.” Patrick shoved a chocolate pudding cup and plastic spoon into his hands with a smile.

Diet be damned, Sid took the pudding and returned the smile.

"Thanks Patrick."

"Anytime Sid, anytime."

**Author's Note:**

> As sad as it is Sidney really was viciously harassed as a kid :( 
> 
> He also really does have a knack for befriending blonde Americans :)


End file.
